


Is There Somewhere

by Siren_Of_Old



Series: Halsey Series of Sin [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A little bit of angst, M/M, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, do not fear, he thinks he's alone in this, i don't condone minors using drugs/alcohol as a means to celebrate, it shall be okay child, just following the lyrics tbh, poor Otabek, possibly unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:12:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9379856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siren_Of_Old/pseuds/Siren_Of_Old
Summary: I'm sorry but I fell in love tonight. I didn't mean to fall in love tonight.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This all takes place after Yuri wins gold at the GPF, most likely after the banquet.

“Beka!” Yuri fairly screeched when he opened the door to his hotel room, blond hair a mess around his smiling face. Otabek smiled back, allowing the slighter boy to drag him inside. He noticed that Yuri was in his pajamas; sweats that practically covered his socked feet, a tee shirt with a beautiful tiger upon it. He wore the gold around his neck like a piece of jewelry.

“Why’d you text me to come over?” Otabek asked as he sat down on the couch, watching as Yuri practically collapsed down beside him. Yuri’s grin seemed to grow even wider and his cheeks were pink with excitement.

“I won!” Yuri laughed, leaning his head against the back of the couch. He seemed to slow down for a second, his face growing softer as those jade eyes flashed back to Otabek’s head. “I won, Beka. I won gold.”

Otabek nodded, leaning his head back too. He smiled softly as his newest companion glowed with happiness. “Congratulations, Yuratchka.”

Yuri grinned in response, before he leapt up again, his hair almost floating in the air around his face. “We should celebrate, Beka! What should we do?”

The older man shrugged his shoulders, content with watching his friend flit around in search of something to do. He disappeared into the adjoining bedroom for a few moments, leaving Otabek alone on the couch, before he reappeared. In his hands, he carried a small tin box and a glass bottle that he plunked down on the coffee table in front of Otabek.

“What’s this, Yura?” Otabek asked as the boy plopped down beside him, picking the tin back up. Opening it, he pulled out a cigarette and a slim white lighter. Otabek watched with a mixture of horror and awe as the fifteen-year-old placed the cigarette between his lips expertly and lit it. Jade eyes flitted back up to Otabek’s and he breathed in slowly, his eyelids falling halfway.

“What’s wrong?” Yuri asked, holding the cigarette away with two delicate fingers, his breath a plume of toxins that floated towards the ceiling. Otabek stared at him, so much that Yuri’s wrist went a little limp and his expression seemed to dampen a bit.

“You’re only fifteen,” Otabek said, glad that his voice held steady. Yuri stared back for a second, surprise written on his face before he laughed, his head tossing back a bit. Otabek felt his brow furrow a bit, leaning his shoulder into the soft cushion of the couch.

Yuri’s laughter slowly dwindled to slight giggles as his gaze found Otabek’s again. He brought the cigarette back up to his lips and breathed in again, his pink lips pursed around the white stick. His words shaped the smoke that filtered out of his mouth. “Beka, I’ve been smoking since I was fourteen. And I’ve had alcohol since before that.”

“You’re still a minor,” Otabek argued as the blond placed his cigarette between his lips again, his hands reaching for the bottle that he’d placed on the table. Otabek could see that it was vodka now, the label written in Russian. He pursed his lips as Yuri unscrewed the top, tossing the cap onto the table.

“So, does that mean you’re not going to celebrate with me, Beka?”

 

* * *

 

 

Yuri Plisetsky was a sight to see when he was drunk, cigarette smoke fogging his face as he breathed out in puffs. He grinned at Otabek, who’s seventh- or maybe it was the eighth, he wasn’t quite sure- drink of vodka made his head fuzz over even further.

“Dance with me, Beka.” The blond demanded, standing up. He let his arms splay out in the air and Otabek worried momentarily that the cigarette would burn his skin. The worry was gone a second later when Yuri put the dying butt out against the glass of the coffee table.

“To what music?” Otabek wondered, standing to join his friend. Yuri laughed breathlessly, throwing his arms around Otabek’s neck. Otabek found his hands finding their way to rest on Yuri’s hips, the fabric of his shirt soft under his palms.

“We don’t need music,” Yuri told him, resting his head upon his shoulder. The smell of smoke and Axe drifted over Otabek and he turned his face into Yuri’s hair to breathe in slowly. “We’ve got a music all our own.”

“Do you get philosophical when you’re drunk, Yura?” Otabek asked as the two of them began to sway side to side, perfectly in sync with one another. Yuri scoffed, smacking a gentle hand at the back of his head. The blow hit softly, before cold fingertips met the warm skin beneath his undercut, making him shiver.

“I write romantic poetry,” Yuri half-murmured, half-sang into the crook of Otabek’s neck. Otabek felt his heart racing in his chest as his mind was slowly going blissfully numbed. He hummed in response and the blond boy gently pulled away.

He swooped down gracefully to pick up the bottle of vodka, knocking back a gulp or two before shuddering and offering the bottle to Otabek. His fingers were pale and cold against Otabek’s as he took the bottle from him, lips curling around the mouth of it. The stinging liquid slid down his throat easily enough, but he still cleared his throat as he put the bottle back on the table, his throat burning slightly.

“We did really good today,” Yuri murmured, leaning into Otabek once the Kazakhstan man straightened once more. His hands slid up Otabek’s arms, grip firm, but not harsh. He found himself winding himself around the smaller Russian, head tilting down to press into blond hair. A warmth settled in Otabek’s chest and he noticed how well the two of them fit together; like two pieces of a puzzle.

It was like Yuri completed Otabek.

He tried not to let the realization show as his hands slid down Yuri’s back. Smaller hands clutched his arms like they were stair railings, and Yuri swayed softly from side to side. He pulled the boy closer to himself, trying not to let him fall over.

“Beka, I’m so tired,” the Russian mumbled, his face buried in Otabek’s shoulder. His hands slid up Otabek’s arms to clutch at the fabric of his shirt.

“Do you want to sleep?” Otabek asked, his voice tight as he realized just how much he didn’t want to go. But, he had to. He had to get away from Yuri and think things through.

Think about why Yuri made his heart beat faster and why the cold boy made him so warm.

“I wanna spend time with Beka,” he heard the blond say quietly before soft snoring filtered through the air. Yuri had fallen asleep right there in his arms, standing up.

Carefully, Otabek shuffled the two of them over to the couch. Scooting his friend onto the couch cushions proved to be hard, his body limp and heavy. But, eventually Otabek had him on his side, head supported by a throw pillow. He put the cap back onto the bottle of vodka, and found a blanket to drape over Yuri before showing himself out, feet a little uncoordinated with the alcohol flowing through his system.

Getting to his hotel room wasn’t that difficult, seeing as Yuri and he had been staying in the same hotel as the rest of their acquaintances. Fumbling in his pockets, he found his key and swiped it to push his way into the room. He barely waited until the door was closed before he collapsed on top of his bed, still fully clothed.

He felt his chest tighten as he realized that tomorrow he’d have to leave at noon, to catch a flight all the way back to Kazakhstan. He should be overjoyed, going back to his family with a smile. Instead, here he lay with an aching heart and a drunken mind.

He rolled over onto his back and found himself staring up at the bland ceiling as he tried to sort through his mess of a brain. Why was he so sad, so achingly aware of the fact that Yuri was nearly two floors above him, sleeping soundly while he laid here, alone? The realization brought surprised tears to his eyes.

He liked Yuri Plisetsky. But, did he like him enough to wait the whole three years it would take for him to become an adult and possibly see Otabek in a similar light?

The ache that spread through Otabek’s chest, tightening until he couldn’t breathe at all, told him yes. Yes, he did like him enough.

But, would Yuri like him enough?

Otabek gasped, his hand coming up to curl into the fabric over his chest. He could feel a few hot tears slide down his cheeks, rushing into the stubbled hair behind his ears. He wanted to berate himself, go back in time and tell his past self to leave as soon as Yuri brought out the alcohol. Maybe then he wouldn’t be having this revelation late at night, his head spinning.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love tonight.” Otabek whispered to no one, his voice hoarse with emotion. Trying to ease the ache in his chest, he rolled onto his side and curled up as much as he could, burying his face into his pillow.

He didn’t mean to fall in love tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment and Kudos as you please!


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